Esquire to the King
by Ronandchicken
Summary: Ron's view on the argument btwn HP and RW in GoF. Kinda iffy, if you know what I mean. I think so much direct quoting from the book messed it up, kinda. But please read and reivew! I could use ANY advice, please!(Kind of desperate)


Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine, nor is it any of yours! It's JKR's, so we _all_ have to deal with it. Ha ha. And yes, whatever I have written below that is a direct quote from one of the books is taken from the _American_ version of the books. I do have all the British versions except for the 4th book, but it just so happens this takes place in the fourth book, so... I'm stuck with the American edition. And trust me, _a lot_ is taken directly from the book, so... yeah.

Esquire to the King  
By Ronandchicken

Chapter 1 – Just a Twinge 

Everyone was staring at the Goblet as the flames within it turned blood red, and sparks flew. A sort of pleasant suspense rose in the pit of my stomach. All of a sudden, a shot of flame spurted into the air, and out of it fluttered a piece of parchment, which was slightly charred and burnt looking.

Dumbledore held it at arm's length, and using the now blue-white fire as a light to read by, Dumbledore announced the first champion.

"The champion for Durmstrang will be Viktor Krum."

A huge applause swept the hall as I yelled to Harry, "No surprises there!"

Karkaroff congratulated his student in such a loud voice that everyone could hear him over to storm of applause and cheers.

The Goblet then turned red and, in the same manner as the previous slip, another piece of parchment flew out of the flames.

"The champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!"

As the girl got up, Harry yelled, "It's her, Ron!" and he was right. She resembled a veela, and her effects on all of us weren't much different from one. "Us" referring to all the male beings in the room, of course.

"Oh look, they're all disappointed," said Hermione, although this was an under-exaggeration on her part, as two Beauxbatons girls left behind burst into tears.

I looked up just as Dumbledore caught the third and final piece of parchment. Now it was the Hogwarts champion. _Please be a Gryffindor; _please _be a Gryffindor_, I thought.

"The Hogwarts champion is Cedric Diggory!"

"No!" I yelled, but over the eruption of cheers at the Hufflepuff table, I was sure no one had heard.

The cheers went on for so long, I was beginning to get quite bored, and Dumbledore had to wait quite a long time before speaking again.

"Excellent," the Headmaster called happily as soon as everything _finally_ went quiet. "Well, we now have out three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real—"

But he was cut off as the Goblet turned red again, and sparks were flying. _But__ all the names were called_, the little voice in my head groaned. I don't think I would have been able to stand it if another stupid, blundering Hufflepuff was called.

There was a very long pause as Dumbledore stared at the name, and I thought that my worst fears had been confirmed. Then finally, he called out the fourth name.

"_Harry Potter_."

Instead of applause, there was an angry buzz as everyone stood up to look at Harry. McGonagall rose from her seat, sweeping past those sitting down to whisper urgently in Dumbledore's ear, who leaned slightly towards her to hear her better over the buzz of noise.

Every Gryffindor behind Hermione and me was staring at Harry openmouthed; we could see them reflected in Harry's glasses along with the firelight from the candles lining the walls of the Great Hall.

"I didn't put my name in. You know I didn't."

We stared back, each of the three pairs of eyes meeting blankly.

Dumbledore straightened up and nodded to McGonagall. Everyone turned to him.

"Harry Potter!" he called. "Harry! Up here, if you please!"

"Go on," Hermione said, giving Harry a slight shove to get him standing, although whether or not it really encouraged Harry much was a mystery to me.

Harry stumbled slightly on the hem of his robes. Red crept up his face, and as he strode slowly, hesitantly, up to the teacher's table, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy. Or was it _more_ than just a twinge?

Dumbledore murmured something to Harry, and Harry turned apprehensively, walking frightened through the door, following the other three older champions.

It _was_ more than just a twinge.

Chapter 2 – Pinning Hearts to our Sleeves 

Up in the dormitory, I sat silent, or rather, lay silent, on my bed. I knew what to expect as soon as Harry finally came up.

A blast of noise reached my ears and loud bellows and cheers boomed up to the quiet, empty room.

He was back. I didn't now how long it would be till he managed to shake off everyone, including Fred, George, and those freaky Creevy kids, and get up here, but I didn't want him to do it anytime soon.

By now, that little "twinge" had taken a hold of me, and I was wallowing miserably in envy. It all happened to _him_. _Everything_. And he just expected me to always be there for him.

There were hurried steps climbing the stairs. _Here he comes,_ I thought.

Harry slammed the door behind him, and I looked up. Something in me wanted to help, like always, seeing how upset he was. The sound of the slam reverberated in the room for a few moments before fading away, and once it disappeared the sound downstairs seemed to have lessened greatly.

"Where've you been?" Harry said, and his voice seemed to reflect his frustration, his bewilderment.

"Oh hello," I said, and gave a strained grin. I wanted to start shouting at him, just tell him, to just once wear my heart on my sleeve, and just show all that I felt to him, to the world.

Suddenly he noticed that he was wearing a Gryffindor banner. _Stupid idiot,_ I thought. _They probably just put it on him, and already he forgets about it. Or is he too busy gloating about his newest great achievement?_ I resisted a real grin as he struggled to pull off the tightly knotted red thing.

Finally, when he had removed it and thrown in with astonishing force into a corner, I sat up fully.

"So," I said, after the banner had hit the wall with a loud snapping noise and fallen to the floor. "Congratulations."

"What d'you mean, congratulations?" he said, staring at me. I grimaced at him, trying to conceal it in a grin. Didn't really work, I could tell.

"Well ... no one else got across the Age line. Not even Fred and George," I said slowly, as if explaining to one who was very slow on the uptake. "What did you use – the Invisibility Cloak?"

"The Invisibility Cloak wouldn't have got me over that line," Harry said slowly, with the same air I had used. I was not a child; he didn't have to explain so slowly.

"Oh right. I thought you might've told me if it was the cloak ... because it would've covered both of us, wouldn't it? But you found another way, did you?"

"Listen," he said, "I didn't put my name in that goblet. Someone else must've done it."

I raised my eyebrows. The logical, friendly part of me was sure he was telling the truth, but at the moment, my feelings prevailed, and I was drowning in furious disbelief. He was lying, I thought. Lying.

"What would they do that for?" I asked, demanding a reason that _anyone_ would consider entering a skinny runt like him.

"I dunno," said Harry. I raised my eyebrows even higher.

"It's okay, you know, you can tell _me_ the truth. If you don't want everyone else to know, fine, but I don't know why you're bothering to lie, you didn't get into trouble for it, did you?" I said angrily, and it all came out in a livid rush and tumble of words. "That friend of the Fat Lady's, that Violet, she's already told us all Dumbledore's letting you enter. A thousand Galleons prize money, eh? And you don't have to do end-of-the-year tests either..."

"I didn't put my name in that Goblet!" he shouted, and it gave me a sort of horribly pleasing pride to know I was getting to him.

"Yeah, okay," I said, and I made sure I sounded as skeptical as it goes. "Only you said this morning you'd have done it last night, and no one would've seen you ... I'm not stupid, you know."

"You're doing a really good impression of it," Harry snapped, and I realized how cruel I must sound. Normally, if no one else trusted him, at least I would – wait. I was no servant to the king, no sidekick, no follower. He expected me to trust him and all that, but if I didn't, he would just have to deal with it.

"Yeah?" I said nastily, and I let go of that idiotic little fake smile I had been holding up with great pains. "You want to get to bed, Harry. I expect you'll need to be up early tomorrow for a photo-call or something."

With that, I wrenched the hangings shut around the four-poster, even though I was still fully dressed, leaving Harry alone by the door.

After a few moments of silence, I heard him walk slowly to his trunk, get into his pajamas, and crawl into bed. I wondered if he was silently crying, or just thinking, sadly, and though that little part of me that didn't believe him was feeling happily satisfied, it now lost the battle to my common sense, and I felt terrible. Only when I heard the normal breathing of sleep from his bed did I slide out from behind the curtains and get into my pajamas myself.

Getting back into bed, I pulled back his curtains and looked at him, and even in sleep, when people usually looked blank and innocent, completely free of emotion, he looked sad. I hated myself for a moment, but then I finally remembered why I was so irate before, while silently waiting for him to climb up the stairs, and the jealously swept over me again. I swung my clenched fist down, about to crush his glasses in frustration, but I stopped myself just in time, turned on my heel, and vanished into my curtains again.

By the time the other boys in our dormitory entered, both friends, torn by a stupid tournament, were asleep.

Chapter 3 – Beyond our Comprehension 

When I woke up in the morning, Harry's curtains were still drawn. I felt terrible about not believing him, but still I was resentful and envious. I walked slowly, alone, down to the Great Hall, and when I came to the door, I found myself facing Hermione.

"Ron, don't tell me you're _still_ going to behave like you did in the Common Room last night."

"So what if I am?"

She led me to the table and sat me down next to her.

"What did you say him?" she said firmly.

I explained everything we said last night, leaving out whatever thoughts I had, and the fake smiles.

She was silent when I finished.

"Well?" I asked. "What did I just say that all for?"

"Why, Ron? Why don't you believe him?"

"I believe him well enough, now."

"So you're not mad at him."

I looked away, and pretended to be extremely interested with my bacon.

"Oh, Ron... why?"

"Hermione, is it really that hard to tell? I'm sick of everything happening to him! I'm sick of always being shoved aside while people goggle at him. I'm sick of being overlooked! I'm someone _too_! I don't want to be stuck going through all seven years as 'that kid next to Harry Potter'. I've got enough stupid brothers to compete with already, being the youngest boy. Ginny herself beats them by just being the first girl but being just as good as any of them. So what's so special about me? That I'm Harry Potter's stupid sidekick? I have enough on my plate competing against my _siblings_, let alone my friends!" I stopped my rant, chest heaving.

"And how do you think _he_ feels?" Hermione said shrilly. "Don't you think _he_ hates watching you get overlooked? Do you _ever_ stop to think that for once he wishes that _you_ could get attention and he could get left alone? Do you _ever_ wonder if he hates having a mark on his forehead? That he hates that he can never hide because of a _scar_?"

I just scowled at her. I wasn't going to listen.

"Just put yourself in his position! How would _you_ feel?"

"Hmm, let's _think_!" I said loudly. "Maybe I'd be gloating that I had gotten past the stupid Age Line without _growing a beard_!"

"You are _truly_ impossible, Ron."

"Okay, so he hates everything. Great. Good for him. And now I can understand that. That doesn't mean I can't be jealous!"

"I know," she said, and it was her turn to stare at her breakfast.

"So all you can think of doing is accusing me of not being supportive enough? If _you_ think you should help him out, _why_ don't _you_ go do it?"

"Fine," she said, picking up a few pieces of toast and wrapping them in her napkin. "_Fine_," she repeated. With that, she got off and swept out of the Great Hall.

Before Herbology, I tried to socialize with the Hufflepuffs. They were being especially icy with Harry, feeling that he had stolen their house's glory, and as Hufflepuff's only claim to fame was beating us in Quidditch last year (not to mention their seeker then was their current Hogwarts champion). But they were cold to all of the Gryffindors, and due to my stupid reputation of being best buds with Harry, their hate for me was second only to their hate for Harry.

Damn.

All the same, Herbology wasn't nearly as bad for me as it must have been for Harry. Hermione sat between the two of us, making forced conversation as we worked with Bouncing Bulbs. Justin and Ernie, two Hufflepuffs working at our table who we usually got along well with, laughed when one of the Bulbs worked loose from Harry's grip and smacked him in the face. I sniggered as well.

Next was Care of Magical Creatures. Malfoy started to try and annoy Harry, but I just zoned out on him. Not like _famous Harry Potter_ was going to need _my_ help. When Hagrid came blundering over to the class, however, Malfoy was forced to remain silent. I was pretty sure Hagrid was on Harry's said. All the more reason for _famous Harry Potter_ to not need _my_ help or _my_ support. Hermione was wasting her time and energy to try and get us to speak to each other again. There really was no point, and a smart girl like her should be able to tell that on her own.

Now, the Blast-Ended Skrewts were not shell-less and colorless. They had a thick, grayish armor that shone slightly. Looking very strong, it was clear they were hard to control. Hagrid gave us leashes to tie around the middle, and made us take them for a walk. Then he called Harry over to talk under the pretense of asking Harry to "come here an' help me with this big one..."

Heh.

I made sure to walk near them so I could catch some of what they were saying.

Just as I got nearer, Hagrid muttered, "No idea who put yeh in fer it Harry?"

"You believe I didn't do it, then?"

"Course I do," and I groaned inwardly. "Yeh say it wasn' you, an' I believe yeh – an' Dumbledore believes yer, an' all."

"Wish I knew who _did_ do it." The bitterness dripped from Harry's voice like nothing I could remember.

My Skrewt began to try and drag me away. Apparently seeing its friends walking about and having fun made it want to go for a little walk as well. I slipped and was dragged on my stomach for a few yards before Mr. Skrewty decided I weighed too much to drag any farther.

"Ah, I don' know, Harry," Hagrid sighed as I got up off the ground, brushing dirt off the front of my robes. I swore at the Skrewt under my breath, and turned to face them, turning the wicked, illegally-bred beast with me. "School champion... everythin' seems ter happen ter you, doesn' it?"

Harry looked away and didn't answer. I turned sadly, and allowed my Skrewt to lead me around the grounds, not paying attention where I was going. The look on Harry's face was enough to haunt me forever, in spite of my envious side ordering my common sense to stop moping and being all sympathetic and start acting angry again.

I couldn't help but get mad at the Ravenclaws when it turned out that they, too, were rooting for Cedric, and not because he looked so much more like a champion. But my jealousy was again getting the better of me – I did not say so much as a word in Harry's defense the next few days.

Harry couldn't concentrate on his Summoning Charms in Charms class, and apart from Neville, only he was given extra homework. But worse was Potions.

When we arrived, I was shocked to see the badges that the Slytherins sported:

SUPPORT **CEDRIC DIGGORY—**

THE **REAL** HOGWARTS CHAMPION!

Gits.

"Like them, Potter?" Malfoy said loudly, standing in front of Dean, Seamus, and me as Harry and Hermione came down the hall. "And this isn't all they do — look!"

Malfoy pressed his badge. The red words disappeared and were replaced with green words reading:

**POTTER STINKS**

The Slytherins howled with laughter as they gathered up around Harry and pressed their badges, so that Harry was thrown into a flash of green light. Harry's face and neck turned red.

"Oh _very_ funny," Hermione said to Pansy and her little posse of girls who were laughing the hardest, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "really _witty_."

Harry glanced at me, watching me lean against the wall with Seamus and Dean. I didn't laugh, but I didn't do anything to stick up for Harry either.

"Want one, Granger?" said Malfoy as he held out a badge. "I've got loads. But don't touch my hand, now. I've just washed it, you see; don't want a Mudblood sliming it up."

Harry reached for his wand and everyone scrambled out of the way.

"Harry!" Hermione said warningly.

"Go on, then, Potter," Malfoy said quietly, his slimy voice making me shake with fury as he drew out his own wand. "Moody's not here to look after you now –" 'Malfoy the Amazing Bouncing Ferret' flashed through my mind, and I remembered sadly how Harry and I had laughed together, "—do it, if you've got the guts—"

There was an instant as they looked into each other eyes, then at the same time they both cast a jinx.

"_Furnunculus_!" Harry shouted.

"_Densaugeo_!" Draco yelled.

Both the spells hit in midair and rocketed off in different directions. Harry's jinx hit Goyle and Malfoy's hit Hermione. Goyle gave a hideous "Cry of the Idiots" as ugly boils began to sprout all over his nose. Hermione whimpered and clutched her mouth.

"Hermione!" I yelled and ran forward to see what was wrong. Harry turned to face us as I pulled Hermione's hand away from her face. Things didn't look so good, whether you were talking about Hermione at the present or Malfoy as soon as Hermione got to the Hospital Wing and fixed everything.

Hermione's larger-than-normal front teeth were extending and elongating, passing her chin so she resembled a beaver.

"And what is all this noise about?"

Everyone whipped around. It was Snape.

The Slytherins all crowded around him, trying to explain.

"Explain," he said in his deadly voice as he pointed at Malfoy.

"Potter attacked me, sir—"

"We attacked each other at the same time!" Harry said angrily.

"—and he hit Goyle—look—"

Snape looked over Goyle, who now looked like something from _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ (particularly the _poisonous_ section).

"Hospital Wing, Goyle," Snape said coolly.

"Malfoy got Hermione!" I protested. "_Look_!"

Hermione was still trying to hide her teeth (which had passed her collar) but I forced her to show them to our Potions Master. It _could_ have had something to do, of course, with Pansy and her girls doubled up with silent giggles behind Snape.

Snape looked at Hermione, then said, "I see no difference."

Hermione whimpered as her eyes filled with tears. Turning on her heel, she ran up the corridor and out of sight.

Harry and I both started yelling at Snape, Harry shouting accusatory remarks while I simple yelled every bad word that came to mind. It was lucky we were shouting together, because our voices reverberated off the stone walls. In the confused noise, Snape couldn't tell what we were saying. However, he got the idea.

"Let's see. Fifty points from Gryffindor and a detention each for Potter and Weasley. Now get inside, or it'll be a week's worth of detentions."

Injustice!

Together, Harry and I walked down, passed Snape, and reached the back of the dungeon classroom. Harry slammed his bag down on the table as I shook with rage. For a moment, I was about to sit with him automatically: it just felt natural. Then I realized what I was doing. Ron Weasley sitting with Harry Potter? We were no longer best friends, and to make that clear, I turned and sat with Dean and Seamus. I knew as I turned my back on Harry that I was leaving him alone at his table. Malfoy turned around, looking behind me towards Harry, and flashed his badge. _POTTER STINKS_ flashed now in my eyes, too.

"Antidotes!" said Snape, looking at all of us. Many looked down, not wanting to have the unpleasant fate of making eye contact. "You should all have prepared your recipes now. I want you to brew them carefully, and then, we will be selection someone on whom to test one..."

Harry met that unpleasant fate I mentioned above. Not a second after that, there was a knock on the dungeon door, and both student and teacher abandoned their locked eyes and turned their gaze to the door.

Colin Creevy, that creepy little kid with the camera, edged into the room, a huge smile on his face as he stared at Harry. He made his way up the classroom and approached Snape's desk.

"Yes?" said Snape briskly.

"Please, sir, I'm supposed to take Harry Potter upstairs."

Snape looked coldly at that short little kid, and the eager smile faded, for once (thank Merlin).

"Potter has another hour of Potions to complete. He will come upstairs when his class is finished."

Colin's face went pink.

Nervously, as though he would rather die than disobey Severus Snape, he said, "Sir – sir, Mr. Bagman wants him." I looked up determinedly at the ceiling. "All the champions have got to go, I think they want to take photographs..." I could just imagine Colin's fingers twitching, itching to be the one clicking the shutter, not only because he was overly obsessed with taking pictures, but because he was overly obsessed with taking pictures of _Harry_.

I could feel Harry look at me when Colin mentioned photographs. I kept staring at the ceiling.

"Very well, very well," Snape snapped. "Potter, leave your things here, I want you back down here later to test your antidote."

"Please, sir – he's got to take his things with him," Colin said, his voice squeaking. "All the champions—"

"Very _well_," Snape snarled. "Potter – take your bag and get out of my sight!"

Swinging his bag over his shoulder, Harry strode up to the door. Only after he passed my seat did I lower my gaze from the _fantastic _stone ceiling and watch his retreating back. Green light illuminated the door, with Harry's shadow silhouetted against it. The Slytherins were flashing their badges at him.

Potions passed just as miserably as ever, because now I couldn't say anything to Harry while passing him to get more ingredients. I was just going to have to let everything weigh horribly heavy on my conscience. _Fantastic_.

Chapter 4 – What Sense Could Never Achieve 

I ate dinner hurriedly and fled to our dormitory, finishing Charms homework in record time. I was just pulling out more parchment to set out on what Professor Sprout had assigned us when a barn owl flew in. It settled itself on Harry's pillow.

I walked over to stare at the return address. It was listed simply as "From Snuffles".

It was from Sirius. I slit the envelope and read the letter:

_Harry—_

_ I can't say everything I would like to in a letter, it's too risky in case the owl is intercepted — we need to talk face-to-face. Can you ensure that you are alone by the fire in __Gryffindor__Tower__ at __one o'clock__ in the morning on the 22nd of November?_

_ I know better than anyone that you can look after yourself, and while you're around Dumbledore and Moody I don't think anyone will be able to hurt you. However, someone seems to be having a good try. Entering you in that tournament would have been very risky, especially right under Dumbledore's nose._

Be on the watch, Harry. I still want to hear about anything unusual. Let me know about the 22nd of November as quickly as you can.  
  
Sirius

The twenty-second of November? I would have to remember to crash that meeting. I tied the letter around the owl's leg again, then sat next to the door, waiting for Harry to finished dinner. My bag was over my shoulder.

I wasn't kept waiting long. Soon the dormitory door opened, and Harry entered, looking preoccupied. It seemed to only irk him more to come across me waiting for him.

"You've had an owl," I said bluntly the second he walked in, motioning towards the pillow.

"Oh — right."

"And we're got to do our detentions tomorrow night, Snape's dungeon," I informed him. Then I walked straight out of the room, closing the door behind me. I didn't look at Harry.

Downstairs, I started on my Herbology homework, waiting for Hermione to come back so she could check all my stuff (not to mention I was already confused, and I hadn't even finished titling my homework). But I was more preoccupied with scolding myself with looking through Harry's private stuff. He never told me he had written to Sirius!

_Maybe he wrote it after you deserted him_, the little voice in my head informed me nastily.

_I didn't desert him!_ I thought furiously.

_Oh, but you did..._

A little over a week later, Rita Skeeter (some mental _Daily Prophet_ reporter that mum took to reading after Gilderoy Lockhart was announced a flake) published an article on "The Triwizard Tournament."

Sure thing, Rita. You keep on thinking that.

It was all about Harry, with "Vicktor Krum and Fler Deluhcore" listed as the other champions. But not until the last sentence. Aside from that, Cedric was left unmentioned completely.

Not only did it "quote" Harry admitting that he still cried about his parents a lot (and that they were "watching over" him), but it said that Colin had informed Rita that Harry was "rarely seen out of the company of one Hermione Granger, a stunningly pretty Muggle-born girl who, like Harry, is one of the top students in the school."

Like Harry? You've gotta be kidding me. Was that Skeeter lady even _hinting_ that Harry dated Hermione? A fury welled up inside me every time I thought of that sentence.

Not to mention the article had come out the same day as our detentions, and so I maintained a stony silence throughout the entire pickling-of-rats'-brains ordeal.

Hermione was livid at the two of us and altogether sick of the whole argument. She kept talking to both of us, going between one and the other, trying to make us make up and be friends again. I, for one, refused. There was no way I was going to speak to that show-off again. All this thinking against Harry had sort of force-convinced myself that he _was_ a lying show-off.

"Ron!" she yelled at me. "He's only going to talk to you again if you just accept that he didn't put his name in and apologize for accusing him of lying!"

"Well I'm not going to speak to him until _he_ admits he's a filthy _liar_!"

"Oh, Ron – he's can't, you wouldn't – he's not – you..." She made an exasperated noise, "...you _know_ you miss him! You _know_ you miss him and I know _he_ misses _you_! Why can't you just make up?!" she shrieked shrilly.

"Hermione—"

"Don't '_Hermione_' me, Ron! You _need_ each other!"

"Need each _other_? As far as I know, he needs me, but I get nothing from him. There's nothing in this friendship for me!"

"What do you mean '_for _you'? Friendship's aren't about getting stuff for yourself!"

"Tell that to _him!_" I shouted, and turned on her.

"It would make more of an impact if _you_ did," she said quietly, and turning on her heel she ran down the corridor.

_Probably to find her _boyfriend, I thought nastily.

But I knew she was telling the truth.

The days crept by slowly, until the Saturday before the first task. That day was going to be a Hogsmeade visit.

"Will you meet me at the Three Broomsticks?" asked Hermione timidly, the first time she had really said anything to me that had nothing to do at all with Harry.

"Yeah, okay, whatever," I said offhandedly.

However, she didn't end up meeting me. I sat with Fred, George, and Lee at the bar, and they managed to Summon a couple of bottles of Odgen's Old Firewhisky while Madame Rosmerta's back was turned.

Hermione bought two Butterbeers and then sat at a table in the corner, and no one should think I didn't see her slip one of them sideways, nor should anyone think I didn't see it disappear. Harry was obviously under his Invisibility Cloak again, most likely to avoid me. How flattering.

Hermione looked very uncomfortable, sitting on her own, and I was going to go join her and attempt to sit where Harry was, just for a good laugh, but she pulled out a notebook that I recognized as her book for her S.P.E.W member list. It seemed like an age since Harry and I were sitting with Hermione in the Common Room making predictions together.

At half past eleven, Harry got up and slipped his cloak on. He couldn't _possibly_ be going down to wait for Sirius _already_, could he?

No. I would have to keep waiting. He had probably just scheduled a stupid meeting with Rita Skeeter, or something, to make another stupid headline-stealing attention-grabbing story about our one and only _Boy Who Lived_.

I could wait.

I opened the dormitory door slowly, so it would not creak, and crept out onto the steps, preparing myself for a long wait.

I was oblivious to the cold of the stone steps in the depths of the night or how cold _I_ was perched at the top of them. Somewhere below me I heard two doors open and shut as the last people in the Common Room finally went to bed. Reality faded into and blended with dream, and I fell asleep.

I awoke to someone saying my name repeatedly, but it was distant, "Ron... Ron..." suddenly I shook myself, and I realized what was going on. Harry must be talking to Sirius. I hoped I hadn't missed too much. I was suddenly alert and awake, and now listening intently.

"It's just that Ron's jealous, Sirius. He's sick of always being shoved aside while I get put in the spotlight, and he's right. Everything's always happening to me. I hate it, he hates it, we _all_ hate it. And now it's just... it's messed everything up between us. He's not speaking to me, and I didn't even put my name in the Goblet. He believes me, Hermione told me he believes me, but he just won't talk to me because he doesn't want to admit he's wrong. And I can understand that and everything but—" Harry paused, then sighed, "—but I miss him. I don't ask anything of him except friendship. If he needs me, I'll be there for him. But — oh, I dunno. I guess the past few weeks would have been so much more bearable if Ron had been by my side. But _now_ I have to face the first task on Tuesday, and now Hagrid's just shown me what's coming in the first task, and it's dragons, Sirius, and I'm a goner." Harry was beginning to sound desperate.

Dragons?!

I poked my head around the bend in the staircase in time to watch Harry put his head in his hands. Sirius's eyes were, through their haunted look, full of concern and a sort of ... fatherly love, and seeing the two of them having what would be a father-son talk like this about, well, life, made me feel like I would hate ever seeing them separated.

"Dragons we can deal with, Harry, but we'll get to that in a minute — I haven't got long here ... I've broken into a wizarding house to use the fire, but they could be back at any time. There are things I need to warn you about."

"What?" That was clearly despair in his voice, no denying it.

"Karkaroff," Sirius said grimly, and an image of the Durmstrang headmaster, slimy git with a curly goatee, flitted into my head. "Harry, he was a Death Eater. You know what Death Eaters are, don't you?"

"Yes — he — what?"

"He was caught, he was in Azkaban with me, but he got released. I'd bet everything that's why Dumbledore wanted and Auror at Hogwarts this year — to keep and eye on him. Moody caught Karkaroff. Put him into Azkaban in the first place."

"Karkaroff got released?" Harry said slowly. Either he was really shocked at this news or just really tired. Either way his brain was having trouble processing it. _Stupid idiot_, I thought. "Why did they release him?"

"He did a deal with the Ministry of Magic," said Sirius bitterly. "He said he'd seen the error of his ways, and then he named names ... he put a load of other people into Azkaban in his place.... He's not very popular in there, I can tell you. And since he got out, from what I can tell, he's been teaching the Dark Arts to every student who passes through that school of his. So watch out for the Durmstrang champion as well."

"Okay," said Harry, still speaking slowly. "But ... are you saying Karkaroff put my name in the goblet? Because if he did, he's a really good actor. He seemed furious about it. He wanted to stop me from competing."

"We know he's a good actor, because he convinced the Ministry of Magic to set him free, didn't he? Now, I've been keeping an eye on the _Daily Prophet_, Harry—"

"—you and the rest of the world," said Harry resentfully.

"—and reaching between the lines of that Skeeter woman's article last month, Moody was attacked the night before he started at Hogwarts. Yes, I know she says it was another false alarm, but I don't think so, somehow. I think someone tried to stop him from getting to Hogwarts. I think someone knew their job would be a lot more difficult with him around. And no one's going to look into it too closely; Mad-Eye's head intruders a bit too often. Moody was the best Auror the Ministry even had."

"So.... what are you saying?" said Harry, still annoyingly slow. "Karkaroff's trying to kill me? But — why?"

Sirius was silent for a moment, hesitating.

"I've been hearing some very strange things," he said, competing pretty well with Harry's slow pace. This conversation was beginning to get really dull. "The Death Eaters seem to be a bit more active than usual lately. They showed themselves at the Quidditch World Cup, didn't they? Someone set off the Dark Mark ... and then — did you hear about that Ministry of Magic witch who's gone missing?"

"Bertha Jorkins?"

"Exactly ... she disappeared in Albania, and that's definitely where Voldemort—" I flinched, but no one was there to see, "—was rumored to be last ... and she would have known the Triwizard Tournament was coming up, wouldn't she?"

"Yeah, but ... it's not very likely she'd have walked straight into Voldemort, is it?"

"Listen, I knew Bertha Jorkins," said Sirius, and his voice was grim. "She was a Hogwarts when I was, a few years above your dad and me. And she was an idiot. Very nosy, but no brains, none at all. It's not a good combination, Harry. I'd say she'd be very easy to lure into a trap."

"So ... so Voldemort could have found out about the tournament?" Harry said, his voice quickening, "Is that what you mean? You think Karkaroff might be here on his orders?"

"I don't know," Sirius said, and now only he was speaking at a slow pace, hugely contrasted with Harry's sudden rush. "I just don't know..." and I zoned out. This was pointless. I'd have to intrude soon. I backed silently up the steps and waited.

"Right — these dragons," and now Sirius was also speaking quickly. "There's a way, Harry. Don't be tempted to try a Stunning Spell — dragons are strong and too powerfully magical to be knocked out by a single Stunner, you need about half a dozen wizards at a time to overcome a dragon—"

"Yeah, I know, I just saw."

_Now or never, Ron,_ I thought, as Sirius said, "But you can do it alone. There is a way, and a simple spell's all you need. Just—"

I started walking down the spiral steps, trying to plod down heavily as though someone woken from sleep.

"Go!" Harry hissed. "_Go_! There's someone coming!"

There was a tiny _pop!_ as I came down the steps, shivering in my maroon paisley pajamas. I stopped dead as though surprised to see Harry, and looked around.

"Who were you talking to?" I asked, although I knew perfectly well the answer.

"What's that go to do with you?" Harry snarled, and I could now be pleasantly amused about how much I had upset him. "What are you doing down here at this time of night?"

"I just wondered where you—" I stopped. Ron Weasley, who now hated Harry Potter with a burning fury, would _not_ wonder where Harry Potter had gotten to at one in the morning. I shrugged. "Nothing. I'm going back to bed."

"Just thought you'd come nosing around, did you?" Harry shouted, and if he didn't shut up, he would wake the whole tower.

"Sorry about that," and I felt not just my ears but my face go red. "Should've realized you didn't want to be disturbed. I'll let you get on with practicing for you next interview in peace."

Harry then grabbed something off the table — turns out the Creevy brothers were trying to altar the "Potter Stinks" badges, but had failed dismally, as they now read _POTTER REALLY STINKS_ — and chucked it with all his strength across the Common Room. The badge hit me on the forehead and bounced off, leaving a searing, numbing pain where it had made contact.

"There you go. Something for you to wear on Tuesday." I glanced at the _POTTER REALLY STINKS_ and knew exactly what he meant. "You might even have a scar now, if you're lucky.... That's what you want, isn't it?"

Harry came striding towards me, and I half-expected him to punch me, but I just stood there, and he simply passed me and stormed up the stairs, positively fuming. Having heard the dormitory slam behind him, I slowly knelt and picked up the badge. Then, sitting by the Common Room fire, in the very same chair that Harry had poured out his troubles to Sirius in, I dwelt on all that I had done, and all that I had now probably lost, and I cried. I, Ronald Sheldon Weasley, cried.

Chapter 5 – What Only Fears Can Tell 

When I woke up the next morning in my bed, I didn't want to get up and keep going with life. I barely remembered getting out of the chair and stumbling up the steps to my four-poster last night, and it wasn't until I turned on my side slightly that I realized I was still clutching the badge. It had cut marks into my palm from clenching my hand around so tightly all night, and my hand was really sore, as was my forehead. Upon rolling out of bed and looking in the mirror, I could see a little red mark where it had hit.

Ouch.

But it hadn't cut, and it wouldn't scar, at least not a scar that anyone would be able to see.

I glanced around. Everyone had left the dormitory: I was the last one left. I glanced at my watch: eleven o'clock in the morning. I hastily got dressed and, splashing some water on my face from the stone gargoyle in the corner, headed off to breakfast.

I slid in next to Ginny.

"Seen Hermione or Harry?" I asked, piling some toast on my plate.

"Just missed 'em," she said, engrossed in a book she was reading. "Harry just dragged Hermione out of the Hall."

"Oh."

Herbology went by so quickly, I hardly remembered a thing about Flutterby Bushes. I can tell you right now that it wasn't too helpful where exams were concerned. After a free period — during which I had no idea where in the name of Merlin Harry and Hermione had gotten to — Harry and I had Divination.

Professor Trelawny spent most of the class informing us that Mars's current position in relation to Saturn at that time meant that people born in July were in great danger of sudden, violent deaths.

"Well, that's good," Harry said loudly, and I looked up, "just as long as it's not drawn-out. I don't want to suffer." I caught Harry's eye, and I was on the verge of laughing, too, but I was sure he didn't care, the look he had on his face. That was resentment. My smile faded. I said nothing.

The next morning was that of the first task, and I sort of went into chaos mode. My brain seemed either on a coffee break, or exploded, with all its little bits scattered every which way, take your pick.

Lessons stopped at midday. At lunch, in the Great Hall, McGonagall came rushing over.

"Potter, the champions have to come down onto the grounds now.... You have to get ready for your first task."

"Okay," Harry said. The simple clatter of his fork seemed ominous.

"Good luck, Harry. You'll be fine!" Hermione whispered as he got up.

"Yeah," said Harry, thought his voice sounded rather crackly and high.

Everyone save the four champions flocked to the dragon enclosure, though no one knew it _was_ a dragon enclosure. Hermione and I, sporting Omnioculars, got seats in the top row, and looking behind us we could see a tent.

"I suppose Harry's in there?" Hermione asked nervously.

"Guess so..."

In about five minute's time, Bagman's voice boomed over the chatter in the crowds, and everyone fell silent.

"Welcome, everyone, to the First Task of the Triwizard Tournament! As soon as the whistle is blown, one of the champions is going to come out and face whatever species of dragon he or she had just randomly selected. Their task is to get past the dragon and retrieve the golden egg amongst the other, normal dragon eggs."

A whistle blew somewhere, and Ludo Bagman announced the first champion.

Cedric emerged from the tent and entered the field as a dragon — Swedish Short-Snout, I knew, from Charlie — was let onto the field on the other end. Cedric transfigured a rock into a dog, clearly trying to make the dragon go for the Labrador instead of him. The crowd was ooing and ahing, and it was getting very annoying. Cedric was almost at the egg when the dragon changed its mind and let the dog run, yelping, out of the stands. Rounding on Cedric, it shot flame straight at him, and Cedric just managed to jump out of the way, though he got burnt.

"Oooh, narrow miss there, very narrow," boomed Ludo Bagman.

Then running between the dragon's legs, Cedric was clearly trying to confuse the dragon again.

"He's taking risks, this one!"

But some stupid little kid running under her didn't easily confuse the dragon. Cedric turned and ran back towards the eggs around the dragon, and with good time too, she had shot another burning tongue of flame at him.

"_Clever_ move — pity it didn't work!"

Marks were held up, but I didn't really pay attention, I was too busy wondering when Harry was coming up. Hermione clutched my arm.

"D'you know what his great plan is?" I asked. "Does he even know about the dragons?"

"Oh, sure he knows," Hermione said. "Yes, Ron, he has a plan. But it all seemed very simple and safe back in the castle. Now..." she trailed off.

"One down, three to go!" Bagman yelled. A whistle blew somewhere. "Miss Delacour, if you please!"

Fleur came on, trembling.

She stood very close to the dragon — Welsh Green, by the look of it — and met its gaze.

"Oh I'm not sure that was wise!" Bagman shouted. I wished I would just shut up so that the dragons didn't get frisky and the champions could concentrate.

Fleur started singing softly and her dragon seemed to be growing drowsy. She was putting it in a trance.

"Oh ... nearly!" Bagman yelled as she crept towards the eggs. "Careful now..." the dragon let out a burst of flame when it snored, and her skirt caught fire. " Good lord, I thought she'd had it then!"

Soon, however, she managed to put it out with water from her wand, and she grabbed the egg just as the dragon staring to wake up.

After Fleur and the dragon had been led off the field, a third whistle blew. A Chinese fireball was left out, and Krum came on.

"Ooh!" squealed Hermione frightfully. "Harry's last! Ooh!"

Krum hit the dragon in the eye with a spell ("Conjunctivitis Curse," Hermione murmured) and it reared, letting out a horrible shriek as Bagman yelled, "Very daring!"

The crowd seemed to draw a breath as the fireball stormed around in pain, squashing half the eggs. But the golden one remained intact, and this one Krum darted towards it, avoiding the stomping feet of the fire-red dragon.

"That's some nerve he's showing — and — yes, he's got the egg!"

As Krum's scores flashed up and he and the dragon were let off, Hermione clutched my arm and said anxiously, "Harry's next! Harry's _next_! _Harry's_ going to be doing _this_!"

A Hungarian Horntail was led out as another whistle blew.

Harry strode out nervously, one small speck looking up at this giant , scaly, horned dragon.

"_Accio Firebolt_!" yelled Harry, and I was surprised that sure a big voice could belong to such a small person, or at least, small from where we were. There was a long silence, even from the crowd. Then there was a whooshing and cheering erupted as Harry's broomstick flew up and hovered beside Harry, waiting for him to mount.

"Very interesting tactic's he's using!" Bagman shouted. Harry swung a leg over his broomstick, seemingly oblivious to everything else; it was just he and the dragon. It was really cool to watch. Harry zipped upward, high above the stands even. Harry dived, down, down, rushing, a blur against the sky. The Horntail shot out a burst of flame and he pulled out of his dive just in time. Hermione's grip on my arm was starting to feel really tight.

"Great Scott, he can fly!" yelled Bagman as everyone started gasping and shrieking and making noises of shock. _Stating the obvious again, are we?_ I thought. "Are you watching this, Mr. Krum?"

Harry slowly gained altitude again, flying in a circle now. This time, as the Horntail's dizzy eyes fixed on him and spurted flame, Harry didn't get so lucky. Dodging the flame, the Horntail's horn-covered tail swung up and cut his shoulder, and everyone could hear his robes ripping. Everyone screamed or groaned, Hermione clutched my arm even tighter, but I didn't feel it: my entire arm had gone completely numb.

Harry slowly went up again, flying one way and then another, seemingly without any plan. But soon any flyer could tell that he was trying to get the dragon to get off the ground and start flying.

Finally she reared, her great black wings narrowly missing the people in the stands as she spread them out, and with a mighty flap, she took off. Harry dived down, past the dragon, reached his arms out, and grabbed the egg, not unlike grabbing the Snitch, really. Flying once around the stands to level himself out a bit, the applause got much louder.

"Look at that!" Bagman shouted to everyone. "Will you look at that! Out youngest champion is quickest to get his egg! Well, this is going to shorten the odds on Mr. Potter!"

Teachers rushed onto the field: McGonagall, Moody, Hagrid, all motioning Harry towards them. Behind them, the dragon keepers — Charlie most likely with them — were taking care of the Horntail.

"Come on," said Hermione, motioning to me. "They'll be sending him to the First Aid tent. You're all white, you know. He's fine, Merlin's sake... Come _on_!" Together we shoved out way through the cheering crowds until we reached the somewhat quiet of the tent. We rushed in just as Harry was making to leave, so we nearly crashed headlong into him.

Hermione entered first, and squeaked out, "Harry, you were brilliant!" Her fingernail marks from clutching her face (after I had told her to release my arm or face penalty of slugs) were beginning to finally fade. "You were amazing! You really were!"

But Harry was looking at me, and I was staring back.

"Harry," I said, and my voice just avoided shaking, "whoever put your name in that goblet —I — I reckon they're trying to do you in!"

I felt as though all the last weeks were suddenly nonexistent. It felt like Harry's name had just flown out of the Goblet.

"Caught on, have you?" Harry said coldly. "Took you long enough." My stomach plummeted. He hated me now, he hated me, and he was never going to forgive me. And it was all my fault.

Hermione was standing looking at us nervously. I opened my mouth to apologize, but Harry cut me off.

"It's okay. Forget it."

"No," I protested. "I shouldn't've—"

"_Forget it_."

I gave a nervous grin and was elated to see him grin back. Hermione burst into tears and we both turned to look at her, equally bewildered.

"There's nothing to cry about!" Harry informed her.

"You two are so _stupid_!" she shouted at us through her tears, stamping her foot on the ground. Tears were splashing down her face. Before either of us could react, she hugged us each in turn and then dashed out of the tent, howling.

"Barking mad," I said, shaking my head. "Harry, c'mon, they'll be putting up your scores."

Together we ducked out of the tent.

"You were the best, you know, no competition. Cedric did this weird thing where he Transfigured a rock on the ground ... turned it into a dog ... he was trying to make the dragon go for the dog instead of him. Well, it was a pretty cool bit of Transfiguration, and it sort of worked, because he did get the egg, but he got burned as well — the dragon changed its mind halfway through and decided it would rather have him than the Labrador; he only just got away. And that Fleur girl tried this sort of charm, I think she was trying to put it into a trance — well, that kind of worked too, it went all sleepy, but then it snored, and this great jet of flame shot out, and her skirt caught fire — she put it out with a bit of water out of her wand. And Krum — you won't believe this, but he didn't even think of flying! He was probably the best after you, though. Hit it with some sort of spell right in the eye. Only thing is, it went trampling around in agony and squashed half the real eggs — they took marks off for that, he wasn't supposed to do any damage to them." I drew a large breath after this long explanation. "It's marks out of ten from each one," I said, as our gaze fell on the five judges sitting at the table on the other end of the enclosure.

Madame Maxine raised her wand, shooting a long silver ribbon out of it. It twisted into an "8".

"Not bad!" I said, and the crowd applauded. "I supposed she took marks off for you shoulder...."

Mr. Crouch, Percy's fat, stupid boss, shot a "9" into the air.

"Looking good!" I said, and thumped Harry on the back.

Dumbledore also put up a nine, and the crowd cheered even harder.

Ludo Bagman then shot up a "10".

"Ten?" Harry said disbelievingly. "But ... I got hurt.... What's he playing at?"

"Harry, don't complain!" I yelled excitedly. He was getting _great_ marks!

Karkaroff raised his wand, paused for a moment, and then shot up a "4".

"_What_?" I bellowed. Now _that_ was totally out of order. "_Four_? You lousy, biased scumbag, you gave Krum ten!"

But it seemed like Harry cared more about just being there, and us being friends again. And I was glad for that.

Charlie came rushing up towards us. "You're tied in first place, Harry! You and Krum!" he said excitedly. "Listen, I've got to run, I've got to go and send Mum an owl, I swore I'd tell her what happened — but that was unbelievable! Oh yeah — and they told me to tell you you've got to hang around for a few minutes.... Bagman wants a word, back in the champions' tent.

"I'll wait," I said. It was not long before Harry emerged again with the other champions, who went in their own directions as they returned to normal life, at least for a while.

We started walking back to school by the edge of the forest to give us more time, because Harry wanted to hear the details of what everyone else had done with their dragons. From behind one of the trees popped a hideous woman who, due to Mum's constant excitement over her articles, I knew was Rita Skeeter. She was wearing acid-green robes and held a quill to match.

"Congratulations, Harry!" she said, and when she beamed I caught a few gold teeth, at least three. "I wonder if you could give me a quick word? How you felt facing that dragon? How you feel _now_, about the fairness of the scoring?"

"Yeah, you can have a word," said Harry savagely. "_Good-bye_."

And leaving Rita Skeeter back at the trees, Harry and I set back off to the castle, laughing and joking together, and I was no sidekick. I was not shoved into shadow, I was not overlooked, especially not by Harry. I was equal, but more than that, I was not competing with him. I was his best friend. And for both of us...  
that was enough.

* * *

FIN  
  
I hope you enjoyed "Esquire to the King". So, you sat through the whole thing, whether terrible or so-so or fantastic. But I won't know what you think of it unless you review!  
Thanks for reading, Ronandchicken  
2-21-04... no wait. 2-22-04 ;-) So confused!  
  
NOTE: Typos have been brought to my attention and fixed (they got worse near the end). If you see any more, either put it in your review or e-mail me at Moony10491hotmail.com . Thanks! – Ronandchicken, 6-23-04 


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